


The Red Shoes

by foxriverinmate



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Gen, crackfic, cross-dressing, not canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 07:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxriverinmate/pseuds/foxriverinmate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lincoln and Michael have taken ballroom dancing lessons...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Red Shoes

**Author's Note:**

> Some stuff that goes on in my head should never see the light of day; this might have been one of those occasions!! Anyway, this is the result of red wine and Strictly Come Dancing (or Dancing With The Stars in America)!!

“Okay, honey. What happened?”

“I turned my ankle over. It’s those shoes. Lincoln said they were too high.”

Nurse Katie Welch looked approvingly at the soft red leather high-heeled shoes perched on top of the locker beside the bed. “Nice.”

“But too damned dangerous,” Lincoln growled.

“Men have no idea about shoes, do they, honey?” Katie smiled as she made notes on her chart. “Okay, Michael Scofield, right?”

“Yes.”

“As in Michael Learned?”

At the patient’s blank look she explained. “Michael Learned. Olivia Walton. You know, unusual name for a woman so the producers of The Waltons had her billed as Miss Michael Learned, since she wasn’t too well known back then, to avoid confusion…”

“No,” Michael interrupted. “Michael as in the archangel Michael.”

Katie gawped at the patient. “Michael as in…the boy’s name?”

Michael nodded.

“Oh,” Katie grinned, a little lost for words. “So…” she indicated the gorgeous red dress that Michael wore, the tasteful jewellery, the curly bobbed hairstyle “…you’re a transvestite?”

“My brother likes to dress in women’s clothes sometimes, is all,” Lincoln sighed. “Is there a law against it?”

Katie gawped again. “Your brother?”

“Is there also a law that says I can’t take my cross-dressing brother out for an evening of ballroom dancing?” Lincoln growled.

“Linc, stop it,” Michael said, pulling at his arm.

“Er…no law against either, Mr Scofield,” Nurse Katie assured him.

“Burrows.”

“Excuse me?”

“Burrows. Michael took our mom’s name.”

“Ri-ight. Okay.” She decided to change the subject quickly before the big brother became even grumpier. “Are you in a lot of pain, Michael?”

“It’s not so bad, thanks.”

“His fiancée is cool with it, you know,” Lincoln carried on as if no-one else had spoken. “She helps him pick out his outfits. Though she was against the shoes. Damned dangerous things.”

“I just happen to love them, Linc, okay?” Michael said patiently.

Lincoln shook his head, rolling his eyes while Katie grinned at Michael just as the curtain to the cubicle parted and a pretty auburn haired doctor entered.

Nurse Katie smiled in relief. “Hi, Sara.”

“Hi Katie. I’m here to examine my fiancé.” She smiled widely at the patient on the gurney. “Hi, honey,” she smiled. “I heard you’d had an accident. Was it those shoes?”

Nurse Katie gawped. Sara Tancredi was Michael’s fiancée?

“Sara, you need to put your foot down if he ever whines about how he loves high-heels,” Lincoln growled. “It could have been me lying there with a damaged foot if he’d impaled me on one of those heels.”

“Maybe next time we go ballroom dancing for the evening you’ll think twice before pulling me up for a Tango,” Michael pouted, a little pissed that while he was happy to stick to a waltz or a foxtrot Lincoln wanted to show off his dancing skills by doing something more flamboyant.

Lincoln shook his head. “What was the point of us learning all those dances if you’re going to totter around in those ridiculous…dangerous…lethal weapons you call shoes? Wear something more suitable next time.”

Michael turned to admire his gorgeous footwear. “But they’re so beautiful,” he whined.

Sara smile indulgently and leaned in to kiss her fiancée on his perfectly painted lips. “Lincoln’s right, Michael. You should stick to kitten heels.”

Lincoln smiled triumphantly.

Michael pouted morosely.


End file.
